


Do not go gentle into that good night

by AnnaOfMirkwood



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blood, Dragon Ball Z - Freeform, F/M, all that jazz, and vegeta thinking about ways to hurt beerus, battle of gods, mainly just, the "graphic depictions of violence" aren't really THAT violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaOfMirkwood/pseuds/AnnaOfMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He saw red--dark, blood red--so intense he could TASTE it, taste its metallic tang on his tongue. He craved it, NEEDED it, HAD to have that red everywhere, splattering the ground as he flayed that skin from Beerus's body and dripping down his jaw as he savagely tore Beerus's internal organs fr his torso, savoring in every tissue that got stuck between his teeth. Yes, that MIGHT be enough red."</p><p>OR my take on how Vegeta was feeling as he battled Beerus, and a conversation that could have happened afterwards between him and Bulma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do not go gentle into that good night

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says. Title from a poem of the same name by Dylan Thomas.
> 
> EDIT 10-14-15: Now with art by the incredible, awesome thetrubeans (http://thetrubeans.tumblr.com)!!!!! :D

“I knew you’d be the strongest opponent I’d ever faced. But I still didn’t think it’d be over this quickly. Damn!” Vegeta spat out the curse along with a bit of blood. Hit right arm throbbed and his face burned in shame. “Not the ending I wanted.”

He watched as Beerus slowly lowered himself to the ground—Beerus, the God of Destruction, a legend bordering on the mythical now come to life in some horrific waking nightmare.

“I don’t get a pudding cup, and the Super Saiyan God is not here,” Beerus lamented. “It’s time to punish Earth.”

Vegeta grit his teeth as the catlike deity glided toward him. A simple Earth dessert dish and an unfulfilled wife’s tale would be the reason of his and the planet’s annihilation. In bitter spite, he said haughtily, “I’ll take some pride in the fact that it took Beerus the Destroyer to kill me.”

The words were as empty as his stomach as Beerus raised his hand and held it in front of Vegeta’s face. “Indeed,” Beerus sneered, “that’s a fine way to rationalize your death. You shall die with your honor intact.”

Lies—filthy, disgusting lies. There was no honor in this death, being swatted away and squashed like a pesky fly. He couldn’t even look his death in the face, his eyes involuntarily clenching shut as he felt Beerus’s Ki begin to spike. The only shred of pride he had was in that he wasn’t groveling at Beerus’s feet for his life. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable deathblow.

“All right, that’s enough fooling around!”

Vegeta’s eyes flashed open, his stomach sinking impossibly lower. A familiar bob of blue hair was poking out from behind Beerus’s shoulder. Beerus turned to look at Bulma, the shock on his face mirroring what Vegeta felt.

“I don’t care for how long you and my husband have known each other—your selfish pudding cup fight just running my 38th birthday party!” Bulma seethed. She reared back and brought her petite hand down across the purple skin of Beerus’s cheek.

No, _no_.

Vegeta choked on his own held breath. Time seemed to speed up and slow down at once. Beerus paused for less than half a second. Then, he slapped Bulma back across _her_ face. Where he had remained unmoved like a statue, she was sent sprawling to the ground. She landed on her stomach in the dirt, limp and lifeless, a bruise already blossoming on her cheek. Was she unconscious? Was she _dead_?

“How _dare_ you?” Vegeta sputtered. His entire body was shaking, his eyes aching with the tension, blood vessels threatening to burst. The world around him was bright and alive with color: vibrant blue hair flecked with brown dirt, a nasty carmine bruise swelling on a canvas of pale skin, the arrogantly amused flick of a mauve feline tail. All these colors were present in Vegeta’s eyes, but none as apparent as the dark pigment seeping its way into the very folds of his brain. He saw red—dark, blood red—so intense he could _taste_ it, taste its metallic tang on his tongue. He craved it, _needed_ it, _had_ to have that red everywhere, splattering the ground as he flayed that skin from Beerus’s body and dripping down his jaw as he savagely tore Beerus’s internal organs from his torso, savoring in every tissue that got stuck between his teeth. Yes, that _might_ be enough red.

“ _That’s my **BULMAAAAAA**_!” tore from his throat like a battle cry as his body passed easily over its natural threshold into Super Saiyan. Raw energy surrounded him, enveloping him in its familiar, crackling cocoon as it destroyed the ground around him and sent shockwaves flying out, making the onlookers flinch and cower. Beerus turned back around just as Vegeta flew at him, the air rippling away from his as if burned, an absolutely shriek roaring from his lips.

“ _YOU **BASTAAAAARD**_!” Rearing back slightly, the god slammed his fist into Vegeta’s cheek. Vegeta absorbed the blow, immobile as stone, before pushing back against Beerus’s hand with his face, cutting his vicious blue eyes at him. Beerus had time to gasp softly in surprise, and Vegeta was on him, sending his own fist across the ancient creature’s face then kicking him under the chin. The prince continued his assault on Beerus’s face, attacking any surface he could find purchase on until he kicked Beerus away from him in frustration. Beerus’s feet skidded across the ground and Vegeta flew after him, kicking and hitting and screaming, darting around and around and not letting the god get a hit in edgewise. Finally with a particularly savage kick to the jaw, Beerus was sent flying up into the air, Vegeta hot on his heels. The Saiyan shoved his wrists together, palms out and fingers curled.

“Take _this_!” he yelled as a purple ball of energy formed in his hands and shot it towards Beerus, exploding into a blinding shower of energy. A mushroom cloud of dust plumed up, trees were curved backwards and splintered, the onlookers cried out. As the smoke and debris slowly dissipated, Vegeta was the first figure to be seen from the ground. He was breathing heavily, arms shaking slightly, feeling the unbridled rage leaving him—along with his Super Saiyan form—with every exhale.

“Is…is he…?” Vegeta panted, staring fixedly at the spot where Beerus had been, still enveloped in the earthy brown clouds. He couldn’t sense anything, but that could mean nothing. Seconds passed and still nothing happened, no blur of purple flying at him, no ball of energy sure to kill him sent his way. Had he actually done it?

 _No_ , he would think bitterly afterward, _I’ve never been that lucky_.

“Impressive show,” Beerus condescended as the smoke cleared to reveal him completely unharmed, “but it only proved you’re _not_ the Super Saiyan God either. I shall leave then, but only after destroying the earth. Whis, now!” he called to the peculiar blue-skinned man, who retorted that he wasn’t done eating just yet. Vegeta incredulously wondered how a being with the power to destroy galaxies without breaking a sweat would be willing to bend to the caprice of such a silly…thing! But he had little time to contemplate that in the scheme of everything else.

“No, I won’t let you do it! Why must you always destroy?” Vegeta cried. Ironic, coming from him, the destroyer of many planets and enslaver of others. Despite the hypocrisy, he felt a familiar gnawing at his chest, the same emptiness he felt when he thought of Planet Vegeta and her untimely demise. Was he to lose this home too? No, he would not go through the anguish again. He would either stop this god…somehow…or he would perish with this hapless planet that had taken him in.

Beerus smirked. “Don’t stall, I’ve already made up my mind.”

Vegeta opened his mouth to retort, but Beerus touched the tip of his clawed finger to Vegeta’s forehead, and the world went dark.

* * *

 

The water of the pond sat calmly within its banks, rippling along with the beat of the music that pounded from about a hundred or so yards behind him, completely unaware that it had been literal milliseconds away from utter annihilation. Vegeta envied it. Goku and the others had already gone back to the party, jovial and relieved and ready to celebrate. He and his wife were now the only ones to remain by the water. She hadn’t spoken yet, but he could feel her eyes on him. He wouldn’t look at her. Finally, she spoke.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she began, and she was right, he most certainly did _not_ , “but I just want to say thank you.”

Vegeta’s eyebrows raised slightly, but other than that he showed no response. She continued, “You risked your life for me.”

He shrugged, chewing on his lower lip. “He got no less than what he deserved. If anything, I should have done more.”

Bulma thoughtfully tapped her chin. “Well, you’ll be able to give him his comeuppance in due time.”

“What?” Vegeta asked, finally looking at her. “What do you mean? Goku wasn’t able to beat him, and he had the Super Saiyan God form!”

“While he had the form he held his own pretty well,” Bulma reasoned, still thinking. “And it was only because the form timed out that he started to lose.”

“That’s a wonderful observation,” Vegeta grumbled dryly, “but that doesn’t help me. He wasn’t able to achieve that form on his own, and I doubt that those inbred hooligans would agree to perform the same ritual again if _I_ was to be the recipient.”

“I don’t think you’ll need them,” Bulma said, a smile beginning to spread across her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so he had to be exposed to the Super Saiyan God power to be able to wield it, yes?”

“In a sense.”

“And then, even though the form had timed out, he was able to push himself back to it on his own when Beerus sent the energy ball to destroy Earth.”

“But how does this relate to me?”

“Well, when the five of you transferred your power to him, you should have all gotten a taste of the combined energy flowing through you. It would have been brief, but you still would have tapped it, right?”

Nodding, Vegeta silently urged her to continue.

“So if you’ve felt the power then you should be able to transform too!”

Vegeta gaped at her. She grinned triumphantly.

“It won’t be easy,” she continued, fire in her eyes, “but with a lot of training, I think you can do it. I know that if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you.” She turned away slightly, rubbing her hands together. “When we get home I’ll need to start making adjustments to the gravity chamber—”

She cut off as Vegeta grabbed her shoulder and turned her back to face him. His face had broken into an excited grin. “Woman,” he said, “you continue to amaze me.”

Bulma blushed and laughed. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow,” she joked, then glanced back over at the party. “Now, are you going to stay here and mope, or are you going to come back with me?”

Vegeta curled his lip slightly. “You push your luck.”

“Can’t be pushing it any more than slapping a god in the face.”

Deigning not to dignify that with a reply, Vegeta gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, and then let himself be led back to the others. If Bulma gently touched her fingers to the back of his hand as they walked, neither of them said anything of it.


End file.
